


You, my Vocation.

by Cheesus_Christ



Category: Pocket Mortys, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intoxication, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-06-27 12:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesus_Christ/pseuds/Cheesus_Christ
Summary: Morty is tired of living in Rick’s shadow. He's tired of being the shit stain in his week-old underwear.It's time for change.





	1. Void

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello i haven't written in a while but please enjoy. This is me projecting my feelings of my relationship into a story, oh also there's rickmorty. Enjoy
> 
> Criticism welcome

 

Space is silent.    
  
That's something Rick hasn't determined whether or not he hates or loves. On one hand it's calming. The lack of commotion and noise soothes the seasoned scientist in a way that even the most alien alcohol couldn't in a million years. It's just him, the void, and his thoughts. His thoughts. The rushing stream of theories and observations that never seem to stop. That's what Rick hates about space. It manifests itself as the perfect definition of what someone would call "too quiet". Without the interruption of any outside sounds, one is left with themselves. In the silence, the first thing a person hears from themself is usually their heartbeat. A constant thump thump reminding the being of their existence, then may come the growls from the inner workings of their digestive system.  Of course that all depends on if the organism has any digestive system to speak of. Humans have a hard time coping with what comes next. Themself. It's hard to be alone, especially in a place as lonely as space. Through the ages of humanity, results have shown that being subjected to yourself and nothing else for a considerable amount of time often concludes in results of the schizophrenic kind. And Rick couldn't lose his mind just yet.   
  
"Are we there yet, Rick?" A wavering voice sighed from the beat-up passenger's seat of Rick's spacecraft, "I-I can feel my ass getting numb, y'know Rick, a-a-and I really don't like it."   
  
Rick liked having noise with him sometimes, especially when intoxicated. And that's where Morty came in.

 

“Morty, lemme ask you something. Do you see any planets around us?” Conversation, even petty quarrels, is still conversation. It is pleasant to have unprogrammed organic matter to converse with,  something sentient with a mind of its own. But not one surpassing Rick’s. That would piss him off. Morty, knowing where his snarky grandfather was going with this, sighed. 

 

“No, Rick.” 

 

“Is there somewhere we can land in empty, deep space, Morty?” Another sigh, this one more audible.

 

“No, Rick.”

 

“That's where you're fu-fuckin’ wro- _ auggh- _ wrong,  _ Morty. _ ” Rick, with drunken grace, landed the ship on what the boy more or less assumed was an invisible planet judging by the thud he heard and felt from the touchdown. “Always expect the unexpected,” a brief swig from a worn flask, “Always.”

 

Morty was even more frustrated than before by now. Every time he thought he could guess Rick’s next move, the old scientist did something wildly outlandish. Perhaps that was one of the many traits that made Rick Sanchez the Smartest Man in the Universe, his unguessable randomness. It had certainly thrown many hostile enemies for a loop more than once, something Morty wished he wasn't a witness to. He was angered, awed, and scared of his grandfather all at the same time. But right now he was angered, so out came the passive aggressive response Morty knew Rick knew was coming, “Wow, Rick, I thought y-you were gonna bestow some actual advice on me for once.” 

 

“If by advice you mean shit, I'll bestow a giant piece of advice on you whenever you want.”

 

“Gross, Rick.” Morty gave a face, cringing from the visualisation of his grandfather's words. “Where are are we anyway?”

 

“We're on an invisible platform I secretly deployed to prove you wrong.” Again, Rick took a swig from his flask. Drops of alcohol escaped from his thin lips to trickle down his chin and a quietness passed between them.

 

Space is silent.

 

That's what Morty remembers reading on a Wikipedia article in the 8th grade. It is silent, big, and 99.9% empty. Space is a big vacuum of nothing that will suck up the screams of anyone who dares open their mouth. The good and the bad. There were no exceptions, for space has no bias nor prejudice. Morty could get lost in thought for hours considering the possibilities and realities space had to offer. How substantial it was that a never-ending void could house bubbles of life, each vastly unique yet characterly similar. Morty was able to witness things no one on earth could even begin to conceive. And it was all thanks to Rick Sanchez. There were many nights Morty would lie awake in bed, sheets and pillow suffocating him as he seethed profusely. He was jealous of Rick. Jealous that he couldn't discover the multiverse on his own as the scientist had. In his mind he was destined to be a nobody. A lonely, blue-collar lowlife with no aspirations, content to wake up, eat, shit, and eventually die. A nobody that never contributed to the success of anything or anyone. Then his life got flipped on its head the second Rick stepped into the picture.

 

Now Morty can't go a day without experiencing something new. And while it may be stimulating, living in the shadow of his alcoholic grandfather bothered him. No matter what he did, Rick was always one step ahead. 

 

“Alright, Morty, kid. Fun’s over, th-there's only so much time I can waste on you. And as you can see by my beautifully young complexion, I have no time. We're going. And no, w-w-we aren't there yet.”

 

There was no point in arguing back. Morty wanted quiet. He wanted space to be silent.


	2. Change

By the time the duo arrived at their destination, Morty’s eyes were shut, and he had a permanent pouty face plastered on. His grandfather made a passing comment on how he looked constipated before stumbling out of the ship. Empty alcohol bottles clinked loudly in his wake. It reminded Morty of his mother after a bad night and too much wine. He sarcastically wondered to himself who she got that from. His thoughts of hereditary alcoholism came to a stop as soon as he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. 

 

The boy's eyes took in a mirage of gold and blue. Buildings so magnificent and large they put New York to shame. Inside and surrounding the monolithic structures were versions of himself and his grandfather he couldn't even begin to comprehend. Rick and Morty were  surrounded by Ricks and Mortys. A great amount of them had extra limbs, unique hair, or different features all together. Morty would have thought he was dreaming if the words “always expect the unexpected” weren't hammered into his brain a million times. 

 

Finally, after remembering to breathe, Morty took a shaky step out of the passenger's side. A bottle cracked as he closed the ship's door, but Morty could only hear the sound of bustling  city life. “Oh,  _ wow _ …”

 

“Morty, y-you’re a bipedal human with  functioning feet and a heartbeat, so hurry the f- _ uuuh- _ ck up.” Rick belched as he walked into the crowd. His grandson was quick to follow, not wanting to lose the geezer in a swarm of themselves. Grabbing onto the coattails of Rick’s laboratory attire seemed to be the perfect system in Morty’s mind to not get lost.

 

“Wh-What the hell is this place, Rick?”  _ It's amazing, _ he omitted.

 

“Are you kidding me? I could have sworn I've taken you here before. A-All it is, is a glorified latrine where assholes come to measure their cocks, and suck each other off under the dinner table. Don't get too excited, we're only here for a second.” Rick spoke in a rushed voice as he swerved through the crowd with the same fervor.

 

Morty, knowing he wouldn't get a proper answer, started to look at the various signs adorning shops and shuttles. One sign stood out in particular. It displayed a regal looking Rick, a speech bubble protruded from his mouth, and inside contained in cursive writing, _Welcome to the Citadel_ _of Ricks: by Ricks, for Ricks._ And in smaller print below, _not responsible for loss of Mortys, limbs, or your life._

 

“So... other versions of us exist, Rick? A-A-And they banded together as a society of their own?” Morty had to speak loudly in the noise. He slightly  tripped over his feet and let go of the coat as he looked at a number of Ricks surrounded by multiple Mortys. Most of them looked bored or frightened. There was a bad feeling that swelled deep in his gut at sight of a few bruised versions of himself.

 

“Us? Society? Don't make me laugh, Morty. Th-The best thing about this place is that some of the toilets are shaped like you. These narcissistic idiots couldn't band together if I invented world fucking peace. Now hurry up.” Rick placed a hand on his grandson’s shoulder and suddenly veered him into an alleyway where the synthetic lights of the city shone dimly. Their steps echoed between the building walls as they ventured further in. Darkness seemed to swallow the two, which didn't so much as phase Rick, but sent off all sorts of red lights for Morty.

 

“Rick, uhh, I-I kinda really don't wanna go down here.” The boy slowed his steps, insistent on returning to the crowd that he found so fascinatingly unique. “I saw an ice cream parlor a block back, a-a-and it seemed pretty cool, y'know? Couldn't you maybe meet me there or something, Rick?”

 

Rick slowed down as well and exhaled a long dramatic sigh before looking back and replying, “Fine. But you getting your way means no Blips and Chitz on Friday, got it? And I'm only agreeing to this shit so you don't distract me anymore. I-it's like you've been shot up with kryptocaffeine or something, Morty. Yeesh.” The scientist reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small wad of cash. He stifled a burp with the currency prior to holding it out. “Get me strawberry. In a bowl, no cone. A-and what's the name of the place?”

 

Morty hesitantly took the money. Upon closer inspection, the bills were revealed to be rickbucks. “Uh, Ice Ice Baby. I think.”

 

“Fucking lame. I thought we parked near a- _ uurp  _ a Freezies. Whatever, I'll see your ass soon.” Rick continued his descent into the alley, “And you better have my ice cream!”

 

Morty, with new found excitement, shoved the rickbucks in his pocket and made his way back into public once again. Everything around him seemed so full of energy. It was as if the city itself was alive, breathing its life into the residents that crawled amongst the golden ground. He took his time strolling over to the parlor Ice Ice Baby, and was a little shocked to see so few people in the building. Compared to the streets, the inside had its own quiet aura of life.

 

Morty pushed open the glass door and was greeted by a bell that signaled his arrival. There was a Rick adorned in a pink and blue work uniform behind the counter, his hair net was on crooked and he wouldn't stop glaring daggers at two of the three customers. They were a Rick and a Morty, sitting across from each other at a booth. The Morty giggled cutely and played with a straw in his milkshake as the Rick whispered closely in his ear. The sight made Morty go wide-eyed and blush. His instinctual reaction was to sit as far away from the couple as possible. He took a seat at the counter, between the worker, and a Rick with glasses and a teal sweater who sipped on a drink. The worker pried his gaze away from the PDA and stepped towards Morty.

 

“Welcome to Ice Ice Baby. What can I get you today?” His voice was monotone, clearly expressing dissatisfaction that only blue collar workers could empathize with.

 

“One medium strawberry, no cone, and uh…” Morty's eyes scanned the menu behind the worker for a moment, “ a small vanilla ice, please. With a cone.”

 

“Coming right up.” The worker turned around and began to perform his obligations as an employee. Morty's mind was still boggled by the debauchery unfolding in the booth across the parlor. Never in his life had he considered to view Rick in a romantic way. The guy was extremely callous and narcissistic, and not to mention wrinkly. The worker seemed to look at the couple in a bad way, leading Morty to wonder if such behavior was normal here. He glanced over at the Rick with glasses, who was still sipping at his drink. Morty cleared his throat, hoping to get the man's attention.

 

“Hey, look at those two, l-love is in the air, am I right?” the Rick politely set down his drink and raised his brow.

 

“That may have been the worst pick up line I've ever heard.” 

 

“Ahh! N-No, I-I didn't mean it like that-!” Blood began to pump to Morty's face as he sputtered to correct himself, “I'm new to this place, a-a-and I've never seen shit like this in my life.”

 

“What? Never seen a Rick with glasses?”

 

“No, I just-”

 

“Ahahahaa! I'm messing with you, kid. Welcome to the Citadel, call me Richard. If you don't mind me asking, where's your Rick?” The man crossed his legs and turned to face Morty. He had a rather disarming smile and, to the other's surprise, pearly white teeth to complement.

 

“Busy doing Rick business.” 

 

“Too busy to tell you about the birds and the bees? He's missing out.” Richard chuckled lightly. His joyful demeanor was unexpected, but very appreciated by Morty. “The couple over there is a statistical anomaly. Out of the infinite number of us in the multiverse, a few Rick dicks are gonna slip into some Mortys.”

 

“Oh, gross!” Morty made a face of discontent. Before he could make any further remarks, the worker Rick placed his order down. 

 

“That'll be 10 rickbucks.”

 

“Y-yeah,” Morty fished through his jean pockets for the money and pulled out the cash, handing it to the worker.

 

“Sir, this is 8 rickbucks and a coupon for a quantum plunger.” Morty felt himself starting to blush again at the blunder. Dine and dash was always an option, but he still had to meet Rick.

 

“Oh no...”

 

“Here, kid. I'll take care of it.” Richard placed two rickbucks on the counter, which the worker gladly accepted. Morty was in disbelief. Ice Ice Baby parlor was full of statistical anomalies, this nice Rick being one of them.

 

“Thank you so much. Y-you really didn't have to do that.” 

 

“Of course I did, kid. You don't wanna end up in Mortyjail, do you?” Richard adjusted his thin-framed glasses with a push up his nose.

 

“No, I didn't even know that was a thing. I-I didn't even know there were Ricks like you! Nice Ricks, I mean.” The boy replied, taking a lick off of his ice cream.

 

“To be honest with you, sometimes I feel like the only one.”

 

Before Morty could say another word, he heard the bell of the entrance door jingle, followed by sluggish footsteps. He turned his head to lock eyes with Rick. His Rick, who was giving Morty a harsh look. The scientist crossed his arms and said in a firm tone that sent tingles of fear down Morty's spine, “You. Me. Outside. Now.” Rick turned around suddenly, flaring his coattails dramatically while exiting.

 

“I-I-I gotta go!” Morty, in a panicked state, grabbed his orders of ice cream and bolted out the door. Richard watched the pair as they fled the scene. He felt bad for Morty, as he did for all Mortys who were belittled, or worse, beaten by their Ricks. He especially felt for one so out of touch with the Citadel and its culture. In the back of his mind he wondered if there was any chance of running into that exact version of Morty again.

 

_ The chances are statistically anomalous _ , he thought,  _ but not impossible _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for spotty updates, i am a senile old woman whose wiriting progressively gets worse with age
> 
> Or im just lazy
> 
> Also it's probably painfully obvious i haven't watched the show in a while and am quite oblivious when it comes to the functioning of the citadel tee hee haha hoohoo


End file.
